Scandalous Scions Two

by Tracy Cooper-Posey

  Bridget dropped her chin again, her cheeks flaming. “Taplow did not make any promises, either. It just felt as if he was. I wanted to believe it, I suppose. He did not promise, Will.” She had recalled every moment with Taplow, during the week she crouched beside the kitchen stove.

  “Taplow?” Will breathed, his shock blatant.

  Bridget squeezed his lapel. “You said this would remain between us,” she said quickly. “You said nothing else would come of it.”

  “I didn’t know it was Taplow,” Will said, his voice flat. “Well, that explains much.” His arm tightened about her. “You’re not stupid, Bree. He wanted you to believe the potential for marriage was there. He implied it, or you would not have allowed him in your bed.”

  Bridget met his gaze once more. It was easier this time, for no disgust or amusement showed in his eyes. “Then he has done this before,” she said slowly.

  “I thought him to be…” Will hesitated, then ground out, “My understanding was that he was like me—that he had a way with the ladies. I thought he found amenable and sophisticated partners. Until now, I did not know he was luring maidens with false promises. Implied or not, he deliberately misled you.”

  “You cannot confront him, Will,” Bridget said quickly. “I will die of shame if you do! Everyone will know!”

  Will’s throat worked. “He dishonored you.”

  “I did it to myself. I walked into it, Will. I was a fool, such a fool. Mothers teach their daughters to never be alone with a man for this reason. I ignored that and now I must face the consequences.”

  “Consequences…” Will breathed. “Christ, Bridget, did he not even take care of…” He lifted her chin again. “I have to ask and you will hate to answer, but you must. Did he…come inside you? Was there fluid? In you?”

  Bridget closed her eyes, her humiliation deeper than she ever thought might be possible while crouched close to the stove in London, clutching a tepid cup of tea. “Yes,” she made herself say, although her voice was weak.

  Will patted her back and lifted her. “Here, sit in front of me, so I can see your face,” he said, putting her back on the rug. He rearranged his limbs, crossing his legs and threading his fingers together in front of him. His blue eyes were steady. “There might be a child come out of this, Bree.”

  She put her face in her hands once more and moaned. How could she possibly move forward after this moment? She wanted to die.

  Will gripped her wrists and pulled her hands from her face. “There is only one way out of this,” he told her.

  “A way exists?” she whispered.

  “Just the one. We must marry.”

  The fragment of hope that burned in her chest withered. “You and I?” she breathed. “No, Will. We cannot.”

  “Why not?” he asked, his tone reasonable. “You are a peer with indisputable antecedents. The family will consider it a suitable match and so will society.”

  The first tendrils of something she suspected was horror curled through her. “You’re not a marrying man, Will. We get along like flint and stone, anyway, but that’s quite beside the fact that you like…you like the way you live. You cannot give that up for me.”

  Will pushed his hand through his hair. The blond was darkened by dampness from the foggy morning. Of course, he had worn no hat out there. “If you must know,” he said slowly, “my father is stepping up the pressure. He wants an heir, Bree. You and I at least understand each other. You know what I am like. Any other maid would wed me thinking she married a husband. You would not.”

  Bree put her hand to her waist. “You would allow a…a bastard to be your heir?”

  “It may not come to that, yet,” Will said, even though his jaw rippled. “You must get married, though, to counter the possibility.” His fingers tightened against each other, the knuckles growing white. “Say yes, Bridget. No one else will ask.”

  Bitterness touched her. “No, they won’t,” she agreed heavily.

  “I meant,” Will said quickly, “only that no one else knows your predicament, except Taplow, who created it. If we are married, then what he did is neutralized.”

  “Neutralized,” she repeated. “Such an odd word for a marriage proposal.”

  “Don’t think of this as a proposal, then. Consider it an exchange of mutual favors, for you would be helping me, too, Bridget.”

  “By marrying you, I would make your father happy,” she concluded.

  “You would make me happy by extension,” he added.

  She closed her eyes. “I don’t love you, Will. You know that.”

  “I don’t love you, either,” he replied, “although we are friends at the least. That will be enough.”

  “Enough for what?” she asked hollowly.

  “To find happiness, somewhere ahead.”

  Bridget considered the bleakness of her future. If she didn’t marry Will, then her life would be ruined. Marriage to Will, though, was inconceivable. Could she do this?

  Will seemed to read her thoughts. His smile was a grimace. “You don’t have a choice, Bree,” he said softly. “You must do this. It is the only way.”

  * * * * *

  Three days later, they eloped to London and were wed in the chapel of Saint Paul’s.

  Bridget’s only attendant was Mairin, who stood white-faced throughout the ceremony, her eyes wide and bewildered.

  Bridget wore a simple dress and a veil she hastily made herself from four yards of Illusion and sprays of lavender and white roses. The Illusion was the only white she wore. While every bride these days wore white as the Queen had done, Bridget’s dress was a burnt orange satin trimmed with dark brown velvet, that she had purchased from the House of Worth two years ago.

  When the minister announced them man and wife, Will lifted the veil carefully and dropped it behind her head. His expression was grave as he touched his lips to hers.

  The light brush of his lips made her jump. It was the first time he had kissed her, or even attempted to kiss her.

  With a shock that traveled from her feet to the top of her head, Bridget realized that she was married now. Marriage came with certain expectations. Will was a man in all respects.

  And he wanted an heir.

  In the three days of frantic preparation for this moment, Bridget had overlooked the natural outcome of this moment. She couldn’t meet Will’s eyes as he drew back. Her heart leapt about in her chest, like a frightened rabbit.

  Jack was Will’s attendant. He looked no more pleased about the hasty ceremony than Mairin although he shook Will’s hand and kissed Bridget’s cheek and murmured his congratulations without reserve.

  Their wedding breakfast was a simple meal in the dining room of the hotel where Will arranged rooms. Will ordered champagne and the four of them raised a glass in a toast. After that first sip, though, Bridget could choke back no more of it.

  After the meal, Mairin rose to her feet. “We should let the men have their cigars, Bridget. There is a ladies’ salon we can retire to for tea.”

  Bridget blinked. She had noticed nothing about the hotel, other than the carpets were thick and the atmosphere hushed. She got to her feet and Will and Jack rose politely.

  “Jack, could I ask you to see me home, afterward?” Mairin added.

  “I would be pleased to do so,” Jack said.

  Mairin gripped Bridget’s wrist and pulled her from the dining room. The little salon was just down the corridor and it was empty. There was no door, only a simple arch.

  Mairin sank down onto the French sofa and looked up at Bridget expectantly. For the first time, Bridget noticed that Mairin wore a green sprigged afternoon dress with a deep ruffle at the hem. It was quite different from anything Bridget would choose to wear.

  Bridget made herself sit on the edge of the sofa beside her sister.

  Mairin pressed her lips together tightly. Her hands, too. “We said, so many times, that we would marry outside the family.”

  “I know, Mairin, only—”


  “You insisted that joining the family with another great family through marriage would be a service to this family.”

  Bridget opened her mouth to speak once more.

  “Better to be married to a stranger than a man who remembered us with short hems and pigtails,” Mairin added.

  Bridget nodded. She remembered saying exactly that.

  “Learning about one’s husband is half the adventure of marriage,” Mairin said. “We agreed upon that!”

  “I know—”

  “I don’t understand!” Mairin hissed. “Will, Bridget? You and he have never got along. He has teased you unmercifully for years about your lack of a husband!”

  Bridget folded her hands and gripped her fingertips, squeezing. With a sinking sensation in her middle she realized she could not share the truth with Mairin. If she was with child, then it must be Will’s secret and hers. To the rest of the world it must appear that she was merely a cooperate wife who had graced the marriage by conceiving on her wedding night.

  Bridget could not share the secret with Mairin even though in the past she had shared everything with her. That was no longer true. She had not spoken to Mairin alone for weeks. They passed each other in the big house in Sussex and rarely saw each other in London. Mairin slept late and was never at the breakfast table, while the entire family sat about the supper table.

  Despite being twins and growing up together more closely than mere siblings could understand, she and Mairin had unraveled their lives and now they were quite separate.

  Mairin would not understand the choice Bridget had made. How could she? She had not lived Bridget’s life for years now. Even though Mairin was not yet married despite their advanced age, she seemed to accept her spinsterhood with a grace Bridget lacked.

  Bridget did not know if Mairin was being courted. She might have dozens of suitors whose attention she was orchestrating with delight. Mairin had not shared that with her.

  They were two different people.

  Bridget picked up Mairin’s hand. “To you it seems I am going back on all that we said about marrying outside the family. You must trust that I chose Will for good reasons.”

  Mairin stared at her, her eyes huge. “I didn’t know he even liked you that much!”

  I don’t know that either. Bridget ground her teeth together, holding the thought in. “There is more to Will than appears to most people,” she said instead. And perhaps it was true. He had shown her consideration and kindness when she arrived in the middle of the shooting party. He had been gallant and offered to marry her. He could have found a dozen other meek debutantes to marry to put his father’s mind at ease about an heir. He could have remained silent and let Bridget’s downfall emerge into public disgrace. It was surely kindness that had prompted him to marry her.

  Mairin gave a soft laugh at the idea of Will having hidden depths. They had both grown up watching him drink and play and get into mischief with the older boys. He had been the ringleader for the most daring of their adventures.

  “I remember Aunt Elisa saying once that Will had all of our father’s bad habits, while Cian had remarkably few of them.”

  Bridget remembered the moment. Aunt Elisa had sounded wistful and rueful. That had been the day Will and Jack and Peter had been caught at the top of the Innesford lighthouse, doing something that none of the parents would explain to the other children. Will could not have been more than twelve, although he had already been tall, even then.

  “Father was a pirate, of course,” Mairin added.

  “He was not a pirate!” Bridget pulled her hand away from Mairin’s.

  “He commandeered a ship, half-way to Australia,” Mairin replied calmly.

  “Perhaps we misunderstood Father was much as Will is misunderstood,” Bridget said, her tone cool. She glanced toward the doorway as someone passed the arch, catching her attention, only they were already beyond the door and out of sight. It reminded her of their public location. “I should not linger,” she added stiffly, getting to her feet.

  Mairin rose and brushed down her dress, settling the ruffle properly. “I cannot dispute what I do not understand,” she said, her voice as cold as Bridget’s. “I can only wish you the best, sister, and hope you are right.” She kissed Bridget’s cheek.

  Bridget inhaled Mairin’s bouquet, a flowery scent that made Bridget’s nose wrinkle.

  Yes, they were two different people, despite looking exactly the same.

  “Thank you, Mairin,” Bridget made herself say.

  Mairin pulled the folds of her shawl higher about her shoulders. “I’ll let Will know you’ve gone upstairs.”

  Bridget felt a jolt run through her, the same shock she had felt in the chapel, when Will had kissed her.

  Nothing was left of this day but the coming night.

  * * * * *

  Will returned to the table where Jack sat with the small decanter the waiter left them, Bridget’s soft words repeating in his head. There is more to Will than appears to most people. Perhaps we misunderstood Father as much as Will is misunderstood.

  Is that how Bridget saw him?

  Will picked up his glass, which Jack had refilled. He didn’t drink. He was too busy exploring novel ideas about himself.

  Did he really have hidden depths? He didn’t know if that was true, only hearing someone else—Bridget—championing him in that way gave him a small, warm feeling.

  For the first time in three days he considered Bridget’s side of this hasty arrangement. She had been forced into it by circumstances yet accepted it with far more grace than he would have. She had the courage to defend her “decision” when none other than her twin sister challenged it.

  Bridget had strength he hadn’t noticed until now.

  Jack squashed the end of his cigar against the crystal ashtray. “I won’t ask, Will. Everyone else in the family will demand explanations but I will not.”

  “I appreciate that,” Will said heavily.

  “I will only ask one question,” Jack added.

  Will rolled his eyes.

  “Will it help, this hasty marriage? Does it save one of you? For that is the only reason I can imagine.”

  “It will save both of us,” Will said truthfully.

  Jack’s gaze met his. “Ah.” He finished the last mouthful of his brandy, as Mairin came up to the table, her shawl tight about her shoulders. “We should be getting along, Mairin, if we’re to meet the ten o’clock train.”

  “Yes, that was my thought, too,” Mairin said.

  Will got to his feet, once more marveling over how different Mairin was from Bridget. They were superficially similar, yet he often forgot they were twins. They had different personalities and tastes. Mairin’s chin was more pointed, while Bridget’s was…firmer.

  Mairin stretched up to kiss his cheek. “God bless your union, Will,” she murmured. “Take care of my sister.”

  “I will,” he assured her and realized with a touch of surprise that he meant it.

  Jack escorted Mairin from the dining room, leaving Will alone at the table.

  It was time to go upstairs.

  Chapter Five

  The bed in the hotel room was one of the new kinds, with only a headboard and footboard. The footboard was just higher than the mattress and there were no posts or canopy. It was almost stark in comparison to the beds Bridget was used to seeing in bedrooms.

  The expanse of cranberry-colored bedspread seemed to stretch like an ocean to the horizon. The bed looked huge.

  Bridget stood at the foot of the bed, unsure of what to do. The most natural course would be to prepare for sleep. Her valise and hatbox sat by the dressing table, where the footmen had placed them when Will and she had arrived at the hotel this morning.

  She did not have a trunk and she had left Brooks at Marblethorpe once more. Bridget would have to see to her own toilet, although that did not frighten her as it might women who were utterly dependent upon their maids.

  A modesty panel curtained the
far corner of the room and the traveling suit she had worn up from Sussex hung over the left-hand panel. She had changed behind the panel into the dress she wore now. Her wedding dress.

  She remained on the spot she stood upon, considering and discarding courses of action. If she undressed and braided her hair and put on her bed gown, that might tell Will that this night meant nothing more to her than any other night.

  If she undressed and put on her dressing gown with nothing beneath it, that would send another message—that she was forward enough to expect the night would require no other garment.

  The door handle rattled and the door opened. Will stepped into the room, removing any need to decide. He was here.

  He closed the door and turned the key, making her heart leap.

  Bridget gripped her hands together.

  Will stayed by the door. His brow lifted. “You look as if you might jump through the ceiling if I clapped my hands loudly enough.”

  She swallowed. “I…um…” Abruptly, she recalled Will’s direct questions, the day he had proposed they should marry. He had been perfectly frank, which had touched her with relief. She cast aside all the delicate prevarications that occurred to her and settled for the frank truth. “I don’t know what to do. If this was a normal wedding, then I should be in the bed with the sheet to my nose, trembling in fear. Only that would be hypocritical.”

  The corner of his mouth turned up. That was all. “You’re trembling anyway. I can see it from here. Are you saying fear does not drive it?”

  Bridget cleared her throat. “Not fear through ignorance, at least,” she admitted.

  Will’s smile grew. “I suppose I should be alarmed you have something to measure the coming night against. I would hate to be considered lacking in comparison.”

  Bridget’s breath whooshed from her in shock at the bald statement. Then, from nowhere, amusement bubbled up inside her. She laughed. It was a shaky sound yet it spread through her middle, relaxing the tight band there.

  Will stepped away from the door. “I forgot that you have no maid. I’m used to seeing for myself. Is there something I can help with?”

  “You?” she asked, astonished.